


daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader

by engele



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Swearing, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Smoking, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29197098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engele/pseuds/engele
Summary: You move to a small, rural town, in the middle of nowhere, accompanying your mother. Nockfell, she says. A boy named Larry Johnson introduces you to his friend, Sal Fisher, occasionally dubbed "Sally Face."Your feelings cloud your judgement and you get yourself caught up in what seems will change you and Sal Fisher's life, forever.
Relationships: Sal Fisher/Reader
Comments: 20
Kudos: 47





	1. petrichor

"the kind of blue that makes you ache."

—

Sticky wood against your skin, the hard pressure of the surface beneath your face. The unrhythmic pulsing of the migraine that pressed at the sides of your skull—like phantom palms, relentlessly squeezing your brain. 

You slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before squinting as you adjusted to the dimness of the room. The noon sun filtered through the windows and cast its golden warmth over every surface. Its comfort found its way over your face, and you breathed in slowly.

You could see the dust particles floating through the air. The sunshine opened out its rays over the beige carpet. You crawled from the dinner table, laid on the soft floor, and allowed yourself to bathe in the welcoming heat. 

Your fingers absentmindedly began to play with the looped fibers beneath you as you stared up at the dull ceiling and thought. Today you and your mother had awoken at an unearthly hour of the morning to start your travels to a town called Nockfell.

You'd arrived hours later. At the moment, your mother, who was named Michelle, was out at her new job—a supervisor position at a bank, or something. She'd also worked at a bank in your old town but was promoted to another location and that was the reason for the move.

You had the apartment to yourself. It wasn't much better than your last flat—equally as unsettling as the last. 

Your body jerked and you murmured a frustrated curse as the resoundingly impressive knocking of your door frightened you into an upright position. You scrambled onto your feet, the heated carpet warming your soles. 

After you'd approached the door, you turned the doorknob and pulled it open as far as the safety chain would allow. You then settled your weight on your right foot and leaned toward the opening. The cool, dead air of the hallway breezed your face.

A boy, with long brown hair and dark eyes. Seemed to be around your age, and taller than you. He was tanned. You assumed it was genetic, as your mother informed you the weather in Nockfell was almost always droll and depressing. 

You had to incline your chin upward an inch to meet the brunette's eyes.

A person stood behind him, with eye-catching blue hair that wisped past their ears and brushed their shoulders. Matching eyes, a bit lighter than their cerulean hair. The only thing about this person that seemed a bit jarring was the mask they wore. They were smaller than the boy beside him, and you were able to look them right in the eyes. 

You weren't any type to judge off of appearances, so you didn't spend much time staring.

"Hello," you press a shoulder against the door, awkwardly fidgeting. "I'm- do you.."

Before you can painfully struggle for something to say, the tallest boy resolves your conflict. "Hi," he grins easily. "I'm Larry, and this is Sal. He and I had the idea to swing by and welcome you to Addison's.."

He trails off, noticing your disheveled state and tired eyes. You were conscious enough to recognize his hesitation and quickly rubbed the sleep from your eyes. "Oh. Oh. Sorry- I know I look so bad right now.." You quickly passed a hand through your hair and licked your lips. "I was laying on the floor when you knocked."

Why did you say that? You've made yourself out to be a real weirdo, haven't you, Y/N?

"Larry", glances over at his friend "Sal" amusedly, almost like he knew something you didn't. His eyes then revert to you. He opens his mouth to speak, but his blue-haired friend beats him to it.

"You're going to Nockfell, right? I'd say you're 16, like us.." 

Yeah, okay. Any suspicions a person could have about Sal's gender upon just seeing him—you didn't, his build was masculine enough and you'd already watched his Adam's apple bob, and Larry had referred to him with male pronouns prior—would probably cease upon hearing him speak. 

After realizing you should speak, and not silently trail your eyes down his body, you replied. "Oh, yeah. I'll start the same day as everybody else. Shouldn't that be tomorrow, or-"

"After that," Sal tentatively cut you off, and you watched him swallow. It was sweet, his resignation. Like he was constantly worried about offending. "The day after that."

You felt as though you were missing something.

"Oh!" You exclaimed, embarrassment washing over your features. You quickly tell them your name, regretting not having said it earlier. 

Beneath the tank top, you were wearing, your bra strap slipped further down your shoulder. You felt it slide. Oops, you thought, comprehending the fact that it had been misplaced the entire conversation. 

Quickly, you pushed it back up and reached for the doorknob. "Okay, um, see you guys then!" And then basically slammed the door in their faces.

You slapped a palm over your mouth. "Oh my god," you breathed, abashed at yourself. "That was horrible."

They'll probably make fun of how awkward you are at school, you thought. "I wouldn't blame them," you told yourself. 

At the time, you didn't realize the importance of that meeting. But, then and again, if it hadn't happened that day it would definitely have later.

The next day you and your mother settled further into the apartment. Your mother was supposed to start work the following day so that meant she had time to properly furnish your apartment. The moving vehicle had arrived a day after you'd arrived in Nockfell, which was "highly inconvenient and unconventional", to quote your mother directly.

Uninterested in watching your mother painstakingly put flower arrangements together, you took it upon yourself to explore the property and familiarize yourself with Addison's Apartments. There wasn't really much of anything besides trees and grass and the view of buildings in the distance. Oh, and the treehouse. Curiosity got the best of you and you made your way towards it. 

It had rained in the night. You could smell the scent of water on dry earth and feel it against your hands and face. You tasted mist on your tongue and your sneakers squeaked on the wettish grass. You could practically feel the dampened mud staining the white soles. 

You almost slipped climbing up the ladder and into the treehouse. You were glad you weren't being watched because the face of terror you'd just made was really embarrassing. 

The structure was actually pretty impressive. If you could live in it, you would. A few posters here and there and a lot of storage for nicknacks and food. A family photo and a stool. A toolbox, some other shit- it was almost as if people hung out in this extremely well-kept treehouse a lot.

Fuck. You didn't expect the damn thing to be lived in. You'd expected the thing to be made in the 70s and extremely old and abandoned. You'd practically just broke into someone's property! You'd burglarized this treehouse!

"I have to get out of here," you murmur, frantically. "Before we get evicted."

That actually wouldn't be too bad, you replied to yourself. Pissing Michelle off would be really funny. 

Letting out a breath, you move from the window and pivot around to climb back down the ladder and run like hell. Instead, your ears absorb the sound of creaking and boyish laughter. You have no time to react before the blue-haired boy you'd met the following day is climbing into the treehouse and meeting your eyes. 

His laughter ceases and you scramble to explain yourself as his brown-haired friend follows him into the treehouse. 

"I am so sorry," you rush. "I thought this thing was abandoned. I had no clue it was yours. I'm really, really sorry. Seriously. I, um- I'll leave, and I swear I've-"

Larry jerks like he was trying to hold back laughter and promptly fails. He sounds like he's going to bust a gut and you feel your face growing hot. Through your heavy embarrassment, you're concerned he's going to fall out of the treehouse from where he sat on the edge of the entrance. 

His friend sends his elbow in Larry's ribs. Larry groans in pain. 

"I think what Larry was trying to say there was that it's perfectly fine," Sal looks away from Larry and his steady blue eyes meet with yours. "Really. Not a big deal. Right, Larry?"

Larry wheezes promptly.

"See?"

You can't help but giggle. You quiet yourself as quickly as it starts, and hoped he hadn't heard. When you look away from Sal, you miss his softening eyes. 

Larry grins at you. "Laughing at my suffering, it seems. I see how it is." He grunts in his effort to get himself up and on his feet. He's on one knee when he speaks again, an elbow resting on his knee. "What the hell is in that lanky ass arm, Sal? Steel?"

"Something like that," Sal replies, the sound of a smile on his tongue. You meet his eyes again. "So," he says your name, slowly. You breathe in but it hitches. "Why'd you move to Nockfell?"

"No reason that's interesting," you state. "My mom was relocated for work." You step back toward your back presses against the wooden wall and relax your shoulders. "And why did you?"

Sal blinked from behind his prosthetic. He doesn't answer your question but instead returns it with his own. "How'd you know I moved?"

"You don't sound like you're from here," You answered. "Where are you from?"

"Jersey." He returned, gazing at you curiously.

"You guys are like old people," Larry has finally got to his feet, brushing off the black denim on his knees with his palms. He rises to his full height and momentarily startles you. Despite his statement, he asks you his own question. "You miss your friends back home?"

You smiled despite everything. "Oh. Haha, no. I didn't really have a best friend or anything like that. I sort of floated. Never really met anybody."

He pauses. "Well, you live in our complex now." Larry runs a hand through his hair and looks down at you. "If you want, we can both be your friends."

Your eyes widen, and a wholesome feeling flutters in your chest. "Oh!" You glance over to Sal. "I- sure! If you'll have me."

Larry flashes his well-kept teeth. "Good! We need some more females within the gang, don't we, Sal?"

Sal looks as though he cringed. "Please don't call them females. And, uh- sure, I guess."

After that, it isn't a few minutes until you all sit down. You pull your legs criss-cross applesauce and plant your elbows in your knees, resting your chin on your hands. 

"So," Larry says your name. "Ever smoke before?"

Your eyebrows raise.

"Sweet Jesus," Sal mutters. "Larry, you can't ask her that." Despite himself, he reaches for the cigarettes Larry's just pulled from his pocket.

"I only asked a question. You're a bully."

You look on in amusement. You can't help but feel a bit nervous about the prospect of doing something you've seen be demonized so often. "I haven't," but this is a new start, right? "Are you offering?"

"Oh, sure," Larry leans toward where you're sat directly in front of him. "Do you want to? Just asking. You seriously don't have to."

It was amusing how hard he was trying not to be to peer-pressure you. You still felt an anxious feeling, but that was only natural. The want to do something "rebellious" overpowered your inner unease. "Uh, yeah. I'd like to."

After lighting his own, Larry hands a cigarette and the lighter to Sal. "Light that for her."

And with that, he resigns to his own cigarette and slowly lays back onto the wooden floor, brown eyes stuck on the ceiling. Smoke cascades from his mouth and floats through the air. The treehouse begins to smell like a bonfire, the earthy scent sticking to the wood.

You move closer to Sal and maneuver yourself onto your knees. 

"Alright," he starts, to himself. He grasps your hand—which makes your heart jump, and you can't tell whether or not you're nervous or his touch had just heightened your attention for whatever reason—and places the cigarette in your hand. "Put the smoke between your teeth."

You follow his instructions. Sal's suddenly closer to you, flicking the lighter with the pad of his thumb and birthing a flame. "Okay, stay still." Suddenly, his unoccupied hand is brushing your hair aside and ghosting the side of your neck before sliding back and flattening on your nape. Chills erupt all over your body from being touched so personally by the opposite sex. 

Your nerves are all over as he gets even closer, inches the flame to the end of the cigarette, and lights it. 

He pulls back. "Alright," Sal watches you intently. "Now take it and inhale."

As you do so, you notice him stand and walk to the side in your peripheral. 

Inhaling it into your lungs tastes like oxygen deprivation and extremely burnt steak. Your entire body is shaking and shuddering as your body instinctively attempts to repel whatever you've just sent into it. Suddenly, there's a water bottle in your hands, and the cigarette has been taken away. The cap has been unscrewed prior, thankfully, and you drink the water. It tastes like god's tears and rainbows and angel dust and you gasp in relief.

"Sweet Jesus," you choke out his earlier statement unintentionally. "What the hell was that?" You raise your head, and he's got his head bowed, bottom straps of his prosthetic unbuckled and he's smoking your cigarette from beneath it. Smoke filters from behind the shadows of the nose and eyes of his mask and into the air and slowly dissipates around you both. "And how are you doing it so well?"

"The first time around is absolutely horrible," he replies to you attentively. "It's all burnt and stuff. Drink some more water and you can try again if you want."

You do as he says, and shortly after you're trying again. It's nearly as rough as the first time around but you hold it in for long enough to do what it's supposed to and breathe it back out. 

"Oh," You murmur. "Huh."

Larry chuckles at you from his place on the floor. Sal sends him a lighthearted glare before returning his attention to you. "See? It gets better." Empathically, he adds: "I don't want you doing that much this time, though. The nic sick sucks."

You didn't ask what nic sick was but it was safe to assume it was the effect of smoking past your tolerance and ultimately resulting in nausea. 

You pass the cigarette back and forth—Sal taking a lot more hits than you, but that wasn't saying very much—until it was useless. Sal placed it beneath his shoe and put it out. He and Larry both dispose of the cigarettes and return to you, matching your position on the floor.

"So, how was it?" Larry asks you, amusedly curious.

You shrug and smile. "Wasn't bad after the first few hits. Couldn't have done it without Sal, actually." You then meet the boy in question's eyes, who meets yours back steadily, But after a moment, he looks to the floor and sharply exhales through his nose, reciprocating your amusement. 

Larry's face moves in your peripheral, and you look towards him, but his features are already changed to how they were before you'd looked away from him.

Huh.

By the time you'd all left the treehouse, the sun was falling behind the horizon, and the sky above you was becoming a darker blue. 

The two boys walked you to your apartment.

"That was a lot of fun," you expressed warmly as you stood at your door. "Thanks for that."

"We'll see you at school tomorrow," Sal responded, shifting his weight. 

"You can walk with us!" Larry grinned. "If you want."

You found yourself genuinely looking forward to it, agreeing on the suggestion, and turning to your door to open it and retreat inside. Before you could, you were stopped.

"Wait," Sal blurts. You turn, gazing at him curiously. The mask shifts on his face. "Make sure your hair doesn't smell like smoke. Mine always does. Shake it out before you go in."

You doubted your mother would even be awake, nonetheless notice your presence, but you appreciated his advice and followed it anyway. You passed your hands through your hair before shaking it for a moment. You flattened it as well as you could afterward and laughed at yourself.

"Think that was good?" You asked, flashing your teeth.

Larry raised his eyebrows, thoroughly humored. "I think so. What do you think, Sal?"

Sal's silent for a moment, like he's forgotten he's there. Just staring at you.

"Sal?'

He blinks, shaken from his reverie. He quickly recovers, as it'd never happened. "Oh. Yeah," he states, moving to turn around and leave. "I'll see you tomorrow!" 

With that, Sal's down the hall and making haste toward the elevator.

Larry exchanges a glance with you and laughs, bids you goodbye with a wave, and departs from you by following after his blue-haired friend.

You think nothing of Sal's quick departure, grin as you think of the fun day you'd had, and enter your quiet apartment.


	2. math

"what a plot twist you were."

—

The next day, you'd wakened with dry lungs and an even drier mouth.

It was true that smoking was bad for you—but it hadn't been as horrible as you'd thought. You'd try it again, but you couldn't see yourself becoming addicted. 

Your mother wasn't home, again. You were quick to understand that she worked longer shifts now and you wouldn't see her a whole lot. 

Not like you cared. Michelle never really liked you all that well. You'd probably have been dumped on the street a long time ago had your father not legally obligated to pay child support.

You'd never known him. You weren't sure if you wanted to.

She doesn't use child support for your well-being. Probably uses it to continuously feed her crippling gambling addiction and buy more pointless flowers for the apartment.

You were nervous about today. You'd never been the new girl before—and you didn't know what to expect about these kids. You doubted they were as cool as people as Larry and Sal.

You showered and put on your boyfriend jeans—which had holes in the knees, but you couldn't bother to concern yourself whether or not that conflicted with the dress code or not— and your light grey hoodie. You added a flannel on top of that which was a little too big for you. Don't forget the white sneakers which you should probably replace. 

You pocketed your flip phone and slung your bag over your shoulder. Stopping in front of the mirror, you passed a hand through your hair, decided it was adequate, and walked into the kitchen. You grabbed an apple—you never really found yourself hungry in the mornings. Besides, it wasn't like your mother was around to make sure you were fed—and left the apartment. 

You locked the door behind you and shoved the keys into the front pocket of your bag afterward. 

You met with Sal and Larry at the foot of the front steps of the apartments, like you'd agreed the day prior. You couldn't help but feel a little nervous as you opened the door and walked down the three stairs. 

"Hey!" Larry greets you first. 

"Hey, Larry," you smile weakly, as you're not fully awake yet, but it still means as much as a smile you'd give him when you were awake. You turn your eyes to Sal, waving shortly. You were momentarily startled when you realized he'd already been looking at you. "Hi, Sal."

"Hey," he says your name pleasantly. "How are you feeling?"

It was sweet that he was concerned about your well-being. "Alright. My lungs hurt." 

He hooked a thumb around the strap of his bag and slid it up and down. His hands were pale and veiny. His nails were painted black and the polish was chipped in a few places. "Yeah. You did a shit-ton of coughing." 

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can he meets your eyes. His head is inclined slightly downward, tilted a bit. He peers at you through the shadows of the mask. Lash-fringed, blue angel eyes bore through yours. 

His eyes are opalescent. It's almost as if every time you look at them they were a different shade of blue. 

You're sure your gazes hadn't connected for more than 3 seconds but the feeling that spawns inside of you from that short contact is slightly jarring. You don't necessarily comprehend what is stirring in your gut and you don't have time to because Larry's speaking breaks through your reverie. 

He begins to talk about the chaos the first day of school would be. You quickly forget what had happened before.

But nothing had happened. It was nothing. 

When you'd arrived at school after a little bit of walking, you, Larry, and Sal received your schedules together. 

"Fuck me," you murmur, mostly to yourself, as you look down at your paper. "Math is first. This always happens to me."

Larry laughs loudly. "Yeah. That does suck. Mrs. Packerton looks like a walking corpse."

Sal jerks his head upward from his schedule. "That's fucked, Larry. She's an old lady."

"I don't care. Pretty sure she's secretly evil anyway."

Sal looks as though he's done reasoning with how harshly true Larry is most of the time. He shakes his head and looks back at you. "Well, if it's any consolation—I've also got math first. So, you know. We could go together," he pauses. "If you want."

You grin. "Yeah. Sure. At least I'll know someone there."

Larry flicks his eyes between the both of you before stopping them on Sal. "Hopefully you won't have Travis again," His eyebrows twitch. "He always has math first."

"Travis?" You echo curiously.

The two boys exchange a glance. 

"Just a guy we know who-" Sal starts, hurrying to finish the sentence.

He was rushing so Larry wouldn't cut in and say something but it happened before he even had a chance. "He's a little fucker we know who gives Sal shit. 24/7. He makes my blood boil."

You furrow your eyebrows. "What- why? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," Sal replies. "Pretty sure he's really troubled. Not unlike the rest of us."

"Doesn't mean he should take it out on other people." Larry scoffs. "I know it bothers you, dude."

Sal doesn't reply—seems as though he's growing uncomfortable speaking about all of it. 

"Hey, guys!"

A voice calls, having grown closer halfway through her sentence. You all turn towards it. A girl, leggy and taller than both you and Sal, with long locks and eyes greener than a spring clover. There was something homey in the way her chocolate brown hair brought warmth to her features. 

A boy is beside her, with ginger hair with eyes a deep shade of the richest earth. His skin is pale and freckled. He carries himself with an air of bluntness and just a little bit awkwardly—his facial expression is very blank, you note. 

"Hey, Ash. Shocked you aren't late," Larry grins.

"Ash" rolls her eyes at him and mirrors his expression. "You know Todd would never let that happen."

"No, I wouldn't." Todd deadpans.

Ash turns toward you after laughing enough to flash the white gleam of her teeth and a slight dimple in her cheek. "Hey!" She then says your name prettily and juts out her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ashley."

You don't ask her how she knows your name. Instead, you sincerely smile, take her hand and shake it. "Nice to meet you," you return, and then turn toward Todd. "You, too."

Todd is already an interesting character. He doesn't smile but his expression is cordial. "Welcome to Nockfell."

Your smile widens.

"Have you guys gotten your schedules yet?" Sal speaks up after having been quiet for a moment. He must've been reading over his schedule to himself. 

"Oh! Yeah," Ashley opened her other hand, the one she hadn't shaken your hand with, and unfolded a now very crumpled piece of paper. She passed summer green over the list. "I've got biology."

Todd didn't even look at his list. "I have history."

Sal looks at you. His gaze easily levels with yours. "Looks like it's just me and you then." 

Your face feels hot. "Haha," you suddenly feel nervous. "You're right. Sit beside me, okay?"

His eyebrows jump—that much you can tell by the way his eyes move. Tucking a strand of loose blue hair behind his ear, he replies: "Will do."

His ears are double pierced.

The bell's shrill ringing floods the halls. You wince, and you and Sal's eye contact is broken. Before that happens, though, you see Larry grinning to himself. 

Weirdo, you think lightheartedly. 

Everyone parts after that. Larry and Ash walk away together. They must both have biology, you thought. Todd leaves by himself to his respective class and you and Sal head towards math. 

For a moment, the silence is unbearable. You've never been alone with a boy. Well, you weren't alone, just not in a group with other people. The noiselessness begins to bother you so you fleetingly think of something to say and blurt the first thing that comes to mind. 

"The piercings," you say suddenly.

He turns his head toward you. You look up to him before looking straight. "What?"

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, you thought. All I do is make a mockery of myself. 

"I like them!" you add, hurriedly. "They're pierced twice. That's really cool. Looks good on you."

He laughs shyly. "Thanks. I like your shoes."

"My shoes?" You look down and laugh. They were so worn. "Why?" You continue to giggle. "They're falling apart at the seams, haha."

"That's the best kind of shoe," he retorts. He jerks his chin towards his sneakers, a muted shade of cornflower blue. "Look at mine. They barely fit and they're- like, super constricting. Also super ratty—but I can't seem to get rid of them."

You laugh with him. "They look better than mine, at least."

You're glad the ice was broken so fast. You liked him. 

The class was boring and uninteresting as any math class would be. You do work. You glance over at Sal a few times throughout the class—not to cheat, just to see how he was fairing—and he was writing answers down with a quick response time and humble confidence within the drawl of his handwriting.

Alright, so he was smart. Not much of a surprise there. You could tell just how perceptive of a boy he was.

You stared hopelessly at an answer on your sheet you'd yet to fill out and twirled the pencil around in your fingers.

Suddenly, a pale hand with black nails has nimbly reached over and hastily circled what you assume was the correct answer to the question with his pencil. You look up to Sal in surprise and appreciation, who's already back in his seat as if nothing had happened.

You giggle before you can stop yourself when he raises a hand and raises a finger in front of the prosthetic's mouth, to tell you "shh."

Mrs. Packerton slowly pivots away from the chalkboard and passes her eyes over the class. You and Sal quickly break eye contact and look down on your papers. Sal's shoulders shake in your peripheral vision and you press your knuckles to your lips and force a bored expression on your paper.

Before the bell rang, you noticed a blond boy with tan skin and caramel eyes in front of you and Sal, occasionally shooting your friend bitter looks. It left a sour taste in your mouth, but you didn't mention it.

You find Ash and Larry before your next class. You think you've burst a blood vessel from how hard you'd laughed when you left the classroom.

"I thought I'd cracked a rib," Sal states over your laughter. as you walked up to Larry and Ashley. 

Larry and Ashley exchange a look. Larry is the first to state the obvious. "What the hell happened to you two?"

You and Sal look toward each other and make eye contact. That's the last straw. You cover your mouth and try and hold it in.

"I-" Sal inhales. "It doesn't matter," he breathes out, an amused lilt in his tone. "How was class?"

"Bad," Larry and Ashley reply, in synchronization. 

"Really?" You ask, surprised. "Biology can be fun."

"This biology isn't," Ashley sighs. "Not when you're just staring at cells and organisms for 20 minutes and then being expected to do work on it and understand what's happening."

"Well, math wasn't any better," you reply. "If it's any consolation—I don't think I got any answers right except for the one Sal did for me."

"I thought math was fine," Sal chimes in. 

"That's because you're fucking Albert Einstein reincarnate," Larry squints. "Please have mercy on our mortal souls, Math God."

"Oh my god," Sal looks down. "Please don't make this into another nickname."

"I like it!" Ashley grins.

You know they're teasing but you can't find it in you to join in after he helped you out in class. Instead, you resign into silence and watch as countless students filter through the halls, bumping into each other as they pass and chatting with their peers.

Through the crowd, at the far end of the hall, you see him. The blond boy who'd been eying Sal in class. He was looking at him in the same way he had been then, with threat and resent shadowing his polished amber eyes. 

It looks as if he's readying himself to approach.

You glance toward Larry, Sal, and Ashley. They seem occupied well enough, so you slip into the crowd and head towards who you've now pieced together to be: "Travis," you state, as you stand in front of him. "That's you, right?"

He regards you with distaste. "Do I know you?"

You suck your teeth. "No," you tell him your name. "I came to ask you something."

Despite himself and his embitterment, his eyes shine with hesitant curiosity. You take that as your answer. In spite of his stance over you and his general advantage of being bigger, you hold his gaze with blunt intent. 

"What were you planning on doing when you walked over?"

"Why do you fucking care what I do?"

You shrug. "I don't know, Travis. I just think you need to learn how to pick your battles."

"Pick my fucking battles.. you know what? I think I will go over there-" 

As he takes a step forward, you raise your hand and your palm roughly hits his chest, stopping him in his tracks—not because of strength (he's at an advantage, and he could easily walk right through) but because of the views he had, or rather—the views pushed upon him.

You saw the golden cross swinging off of his neck as soon as you approached. You'd also seen the gnarly black eye he wore on his face.

It was safe to assume he was being beaten at home and by a parent. And, most of the time.. when an adult is religious they will use several methods to further push it upon their child. Like sinner's guilt. And abuse.

If Travis' extremely religious guardian were to ever find out he'd harmed a girl, especially under the eyes of many others—it wouldn't turn out very well for him.

Yes, maybe you were being manipulative. But you were being manipulative for the good of both Sal and Travis.

"Step down," you advised. "This won't go very well."

You steadily meet his eyes. The stare between the two of you lasts for an even amount of time. Finally, he breaks that contact, jerks away with you, huffs, and walks his way around you and down the hall.

After that, you returned with the excuse of exchanging books from your locker, after Larry had asked you where you had wandered off to. No one seemed to have noticed Travis standing ominously at the end of the hall or your altercation with him.

At the end of school, you were beat. You said goodbye to both Ashley and Todd. Afterward, you, Larry, and Sal head for Addison's Apartments. 

"You know, we don't have to go home yet," you say.

The boys turn to you curiously, as you kick a pebble as you walk along the side of the road. The beginnings of the sunset blossom in the sky—orange and fruity like tangerine jelly and amaranth pink like homemade strawberry frosting. like home. It fills you up inside and makes you feel so sweet.

"You guys wanna see a movie?"

Larry grins. "We don't have money."

"Who says we need money?"

When you'd arrived at the movie theater, all three of you had circled to the side exit. After a few moments of waiting suspiciously, an older couple exited through the doors. Larry caught the handle before it closed, and you brushed past them and quickly entered the theater. Before the doors closed, you heard them mumbling about "pesky children," or something. 

Once you'd gotten in, you scanned each screening room and what movie the doors said it was playing.

You and Sal decided on a scary movie. Larry was not amused. Whatsoever. Apparently, horror is not his thing.

Before you entered, you frowned.

"We have no popcorn.." 

In moments, Larry was reaching into a nearby trash can and pulling out an empty bucket that improbably had popcorn inside of it at some point in time. He then walked away, holding this empty popcorn bucket. It was so bizarre and you would have laughed had not been extremely confused.

"What.." Sal murmured, looking to you. "You think he'll come back?"

"I don't know where he would even be coming back from," You admitted.

It wasn't very long until he'd returned, with the empty bucket he'd taken from the trash now full of popcorn.

"Mandatory free refills," He said to your baffled face, pointing toward the poster on the wall above the trash can which read exactly what he'd just said. "You can never forget the hustle, kids."

"Oh my god," Sal mumbled and you barely heard him beneath Larry's laughter.

The movie was horribly made, and it still somehow scared the shit out of Larry. It may as well have been a comedy with how hard you'd laughed. Multiple other people in the theater had told you to shut Larry up but that was impossible when he was screaming every time a shadow would come on screen or the scene would change. 

You, being between Larry and Sal, originally thought you'd had the best seat. You were wrong. Not only was Larry cowering into you and screaming directly in your ear, but Sal had simultaneously begun to throw popcorn at Larry's face to shut him up. That only resulted in popcorn. All over.

Needless to say, you left before the movie ended because of the fear of being escorted out by the employees.

"I'm never seeing a movie with you again," Sal squinted towards Larry. The three of you were now on the way back to the apartments. The night was thick and pearly moonlight bounced off old the white of his prosthetic face. "I think my eardrums are bleeding."

"It's the horror movies! This isn't my fault. Both of you ganged up on me and chose it."

You giggled to yourself.

Sal, beside you, suddenly stopped. "Wait, Y/N."

You stopped, and Larry halted a few feet away, as he'd been walking a bit ahead. Sal leaned forward and reached toward your face. Your body felt as though it had been zapped and you stood still. 

He reached into your hair and pulled out a piece of popcorn.

"Huh." You said, dumbly. "How'd that get there?"

Larry's approaching footsteps were fast and leggy. He reached into Sal's hand, plucked the piece of popcorn between his fingers and fucking ate it.

"Jesus Christ, I can't do this anymore," Sal shook his head. 

"What? It looked okay."

Recovering quickly from whatever had happened to you, you laughed.

You also inwardly denied what your body was feeling because you knew it was much too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked this one !! thank u for reading it 💙💙 stay tuned for the next one !!


	3. frogger

"i don't want to be friends. i want all of you." 

—

"Can I get your number?"

You and Larry both whip around to face Sal, the person who'd spoken that sentence. You're stood at the foot of Addison's Apartments.

"What?" You blink. "Me? My what?"

You assume Sal mirrors your nonplussed expression because he bats his eyes just as startled as you did. "Uh- your phone number. So we can be in touch easier. You know, for school and stuff."

Eager anxiousness in the form of butterflies batted their wings in your gut and your ribs. You reached into your back pocket, flipped your flip-phone open, and handed it toward the blue-haired boy. "Here," you blurted. "Put it in there." You gloss your eyes toward Larry. For some apparent reason, he's wearing a wide, shit-eating grin.

"You can put yours in too if you want."

He waves a tan hand. Your attention is on Larry, but it somehow drifts and you're glancing toward Sal. His veiny hands are jerking which each movement of his thumbs as he presses numbers on the keypad. 

"No, that's okay," Larry replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I'll get it off of Sal."

"Here," Sal holds the flip phone out to you. It's small in his hand. 

He has long fingers, you thought. 

"Oh, thanks." Your fingers brush his as you reclaim your phone and return it to it's place in your back pocket. 

Your heart is beating unnecessarily loud by the time they've walked you to your apartment. Your hands are in your coat pockets to conceal the mild trembling in your hands. You're almost nervous that they can hear the rushing of your blood as your heart rapidly pumps it through your body—because you know you certainly can. 

"I had fun today," you smiled, your expression nothing but sincerity. "Thanks for everything. I appreciate it."

Larry grins. "That's cute. No need to thank us, alright?"

You twitch the corner of your lips upward and nod towards him. 

Sal tucks a strand of blue hair behind his ear—you'll never get used to the color. In a good way. You could look at it for hours—and fiddles with his backpack strap. "See you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah," you respond, your teeth making an appearance. "Goodnight, you guys."

With that, you're inside of your apartment and shutting the door behind you. You hear their muffled voices and unintelligible words through the wall as they retreat from your door and towards the elevator. 

You drop your bag at the door and make haste to your room. You sit on the side of your bed and hurriedly open your phone.

The first phone number you'd ever had—save your mother, which doesn't count— was "c you tomorrow :)", sitting right beneath "Mom" on the contact list. After changing his name to "Sal :)" you breathed out shakily, and slowly pushed enter on his contact. 

Should you send him something? Isn't that a bit weird? You'd just seen him a few minutes ago. Should you wait a little longer? What if he's still with Larry, and they see what you'd sent a message so quickly and make fun of you?

You shake your head. That was unlikely. All they'd been was great to you. 

"c you tmrw."

You inwardly linger over the thought of pressing the send button. 

Why the fuck were you so nervous, anyway? Because a boy with nice hands and a pretty laugh said he'd see you tomorrow?

Yeah.. okay, maybe that was it. 

"c you tmrw." The message was sent.

You slapped a hand over your face. Should you have said something else? Should you just have not texted him at all? You fell back into the mattress, draping your arm over your face and blinking into your wrist. The feeling of exhilarated dread churned in your gut. 

A subtle vibration reverberated on the comforter. It buzzed in your ears momentarily. You paused, before lurching upward and snatching the phone back into your grasp.

"you too. let's try not to rouse mrs. packerton's suspicions tomorrow like we did today lol."

You grinned, and replied before you could stop yourself. "might not be possible. you may need to answer another math question for me."

Sal replied after a pause. "can't say no to that. goodnight, y/n"

You breathed out slowly, typed out a goodnight message, and slowly dropped your hands back down to the comforter. 

Your fingers shook and your heart was beating itself against your rib cage. Not long after, you dozed off into sleep thinking of the way your body felt when the warmth of his palm was flush against the nape of your neck.

Getting up the next day is a bit harder than getting up the previous one. You couldn't seem to rub the sleep away from your eyes, and, for some reason or another—you'd waken up in a cold sweat, and your sheets stuck to your body. Not only that, when you'd went to shower, the water was freezing, for no apparent reason. You'd come to terms with the fact that this building had multiple personalities. 

Standing beneath the shower head felt like being pricked with itty-bitty pitchforks. Topped with miniature ice cubes. 

You'd gotten dressed in an oversized black sweater (over a long-sleeved, black top for added warmth), along with an a-lined plaid emerald green and blue skirt on top of your sheer black tights. The skirt was not short—not amongst your standards, it was mid-thigh—but nowadays teachers were weird about how girls dressed so you'd have to keep an eye out about that. 

Also, surprisingly—instead of the usual beat up and raggedy sneakers you usually wore you decided on some of your chunky Mary Janes you'd thrifted not long back. You'd never given them a go outside before. The only time they'd been worn was in your room and by yourself. 

When you were fully dressed, you let yourself examine your outfit in the mirror. While doing so, your phone chimes in your hand. You snap it open hastily and read the notification.

"it's larry. sal gave me your number :P meet us outside when ur ready"

You grinned and walked out of your room. You grabbed your bag and made for the door. When you'd gotten outside, what greeted you there was not exactly what you'd expected. 

"Oh! Ashley, is this yours?" You inquired, gazing over the pale silver Ford Fiesta that sat in the driveway. It was a cute car. Ash sat in the driver's seat with the window down and her forest green eyes attentive and on you. 

"Yeah! My little brother had an allergic reaction while eating out at some big corporate food chain and we got it in compensation. We already have a family car so it was given to me."

What a nice story, you thought, making sure you maintained your pleasant expression.

"Oh," you passed your gaze over the vehicle again. "Cool!"

You noted Todd's place in the passenger seat. You met his eye and gently waved. He returned the wave, with that neutral look on his face he always seemed to have. 

"You're going to be cold," a voice behind you says rather abruptly. You jump, whirling around. 

"You scared me," you laughed, your face burning as you made eye contact with none other than Sal Fisher. "What do you mean?"

"Your skirt," he replies, glancing away momentarily. Your eyebrows raise comically.

"You don't like it?"

"No-" he rushes out, a bit too fast. "Uh, no. It's g- it's nice. I meant you're going to be cold in it." 

He was right. It was nearing the end of August. 

You pass your eyes over your legs, from the a-lined skirt, the sheer black tights, and the chunky Mary Janes. You return your gaze to his—not before catching a glinting glimpse of what seemed to be rings adorning his fingers—and shrugged. 

"Oh well. All I'm worried about is being dress coded," you look to Larry, who's near Sal. "Good morning."

"You too," he grins. "Let's get in the car. It's chilly."

You all clamber into the backseat. You're in between Sal and Larry. Hot air blew from the car vents and hit you in the face as Ashley turned the temperature up further. While doing that, she turns on the radio and channel surfs until she's found some sort of soft rock station. She turns it up to a moderate volume. 

A car freshener in the shape of a red tree dangled from the rearview mirror and swayed as Ashley put the car in reverse and pulled out of the driveway. It had a charming illustration of what resembled two strawberries on the front. 

The car smelled nostalgic—like the smell of the hair on one of those Strawberry Shortcake dolls you owned as a child.

The wistful scent is abruptly overpowered by the smell of smoke and the autumn air. Larry had rolled a window down and had just lit a cigarette to your left. On your right, Sal has pulled out his flip phone and is playing some sort of shit quality version of Frogger. 

Interested, you lean over. 

"How'd you get that on there?"

He looks over at you. He's close. You can hear him slowly inhaling and exhaling through his nose. "Todd did it for me," Sal replies. He gestures toward you with the phone. The phone makes a sound. The digital frog had fallen into the water. "Wanna play?"

"Oh," you pause, and smile. "I like watching you."

His eyes flicker over your face. "Okay."

He returned to the game. Finally, you had an excuse to stare down at his hands. Multiple silver and black rings adorned his hands. They fit him perfectly—snug on his pretty fingers and accenting his veiny hands perfectly. 

During your examination, you hadn't exactly realized it but your cheek was now flush against his shoulder and your hair was tickling his neck.

No, you weren't smelling him, but it was hard not to scent it when you inhaled through your nose. He smelled of delicate laundry detergent—fresh, clean—and of minty vanilla. Breathing that in made you feel what was probably the most at home you'd felt in months. 

You glanced up from his hands, to his Adam's apple, to his prosthetic face—his gaze remained attentive on the flip phone, dark lashes moving along to accommodate his flickering eyes. You looked away before he'd noticed, and paid attention to the game.

"You're good," you commented.

He didn't reply immediately, almost as if he'd looked over at you. The side of your face remained on his shoulder and your hair still brushed against the skin on his neck.

"Well, it's only Frogger," he remarked. "I bet you're better. Try it."

The sudden scent of ashy smoke consumed your senses. Larry must have exhaled halfway inside of the car. The vapor floated for a moment before dissipating into nothing. 

You took the phone from Sal's hands and shifted in your seat to sit straight up. You pressed play on the game, and within seconds your frog had fallen into the water.

"I suck."

"No, you don't. You're just not trying hard enough."

"Potato, Potahto," you reply, shortly laughing at yourself and pressing play again nonetheless. 

Suddenly, the vehicle slammed to a halt. You held onto the phone tight in one hand and steadied yourself on the passenger seat in front of you with your other one. 

Sal seemed to have the same idea, except he seemed to panic and had braced yourself on your knee instead. You could have sworn you saw white for a split second, your insides jumping and chills fluttering down your spine. He quickly retracted his touch, catching your eye immediately.

"Sorry," Sal uttered. 

"That's okay," you'd done a fine job gathering yourself together. "Perfectly fine."

"Jesus Christ, Ash! What the hell was that?" Larry calls from your left, the cigarette between his pointer and middle fingers. He was halfway through exhaling his smoke when he spoke again. Vapor spilled from his lips as he stared at the front of the vehicle. "Trying to kill us?"

"Whoops! Sorry guys, I almost missed the red light."

"That wasn't very wise," Todd remarked from the passenger seat, turning his head to look at Ash. You couldn't help but shortly giggle, looking back down at Sal's phone.

You heard Sal slowly exhale a breath of relief beside you. 

"Yeah, anything but fucking wise," Larry scoffed. "Thought I was about to die, dude."

"I said I was sorry," you could hear the roll of Ashley's eyes in her voice. "My parents would kill me if I got a ticket. Also, who told you that you could smoke in my car?"

"I did." In your peripheral vision, he was staring blankly. "What're you going to do about it?"

In the rearview mirror, Ashley squinted her eyes but said nothing. 

"This is a shit show," Sal murmured, looking back to his phone in your hands. You'd returned to the game, still attempting at getting past the first level. The digital frog continuously leaped over lily pads and logs. It was almost therapeutic.

"Sorry you don't want me back here, Sal." Larry's tone had transformed from mildly annoyed to slightly bitter. His cigarette had been held unattended for a decent amount of time so it had begun to burn out. "I didn't ask to third wheel."

You blinked and convinced yourself you'd heard him wrong.

You weren't looking at Sal's face. He was silent for a few seconds. 

"Just chill out, alright?"

"I'll say what I want."

"It's too early for this, Larry," Sal bit out. "Cut it the fuck out."

Your heart pumped furiously.

"Where do you want to take this, Sal?"

Ashley jumped in incredibly quick, the car jerking as she turned the wheel abruptly, pulling the vehicle into the school's parking lot. "Fuck no. What the fuck are you thinking, Larry? Going to fight Sal because you're in a pissy mood?"

"I'm not going to fucking fight him, Ashley," He shook his head. "It's just- apparently he's got some kind of vendetta against me today so I guess we could talk somewhere else-"

"That's in your head, Larry," Sal said honestly. "I don't know what makes you think I have something against you today, but I don't. I don't know how you want me to prove that to you." 

Larry settles into silence as Ashley pulls the Ford Fiesta into a parking space.

"Just- put the cigarette out and calm down, okay?"

It didn't look like the smoke had much left in it, but Larry still drew one last hit out of it before he stepped out of the car and crushed it beneath his shoe. He throws his bag over his shoulder and slams the car door behind him.

You look over at Sal, who was reaching for the door handle. Ashley and Todd had already exited the vehicle, and Ashley was standing by and waiting for you both to get out so she could lock the car. 

"Hey," you murmured before he could leave. The blue-haired boy turned his head and inquired you with raised eyebrows. "Try to be patient with him, when you two talk it out. I haven't known him long—but I can tell he's the sort of person that wouldn't act like that unless something's bothering him."

Sal looks down at you thoughtfully, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. You hear him swallow thickly. "Yeah," he muttered. "He is that type of person. I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

With that, you both exit the vehicle and Ashley locks the car. Todd and Larry had already walked up a measured distance ahead of the three of you. 

"Do you know what that might have been about?" Ashley asks, directing the question toward Sal by holding eye contact with him. You walk to Sal's left, looking ahead as to not be intrusive on the conversation.

"Uh.." he trails off. A cool breeze filters past your face and legs and it makes you shiver. "Not really. Usually, it's about his mom. Whenever they've argued about something, it puts him in a bad mood."

Ashley seems to give herself a moment to reply. 

"Anything else?"

Sal does the same. 

"Not that I know of."

Your eyebrows twitch downward. 

Ashley walks slightly ahead of the two of you. She calls your name, and you look up from the ground, startled. "How are you liking the apartments? Anytime I've been there, they're kind of creepy."

You giggle. "Yeah. You could say that. I'd say they're alright—it gets kind of cold. The water was fucking ice cold today. Could barely shower."

Ashley mirrors your laughter. "Anything else?"

You pause. "Larry has this really great treehouse. I don't know if you've been, but it's honestly pretty cool. It's homey."

She looks up to Sal in surprise. "She's already been? When did you guys show her?"

He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "Uh, well, we didn't necessarily show her.."

Ashley looks at you curiously. You sarcastically pout towards Sal, finding his eyes to be twinkling with amusement. "I may have broken into it."

"Oh, you didn't break into it," Sal protests, exhaling sharply through his nose in a gentle chuckle. "You just didn't realize it was inhabited."

You look towards Ashley. "Long story short—I found a cool treehouse. Thought it was abandoned. Climbed into it. Coincidentally, Sal and Larry climbed into the treehouse while I was in it. It was embarrassing."

"It wasn't. It was funny," You could hear Sal's grin. "She smoked for the first time that day."

Ashley's jaw dropped in faux-astonishment. "You've tainted her innocence."

You smile. "It was honestly kind of horrible at first."

Before you knew it, the three of you had entered the school. After a few more minutes of banter and friendly conversation, you and Sal parted ways from Ashley to head towards your first class of the day: math.

Once again, Mrs. Packerton had given the class a math sheet. For god knows why she expected you to know all of these things off of the bat and get all of the questions right with barely any assistance. You were stuck on one problem like it always went.

Someone nudged your arm. You looked to your left and smiled at who was looking at you. He glanced down at your paper. "The answer's-"

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Mr. Fisher?"

Fuck, you thought, slowly looking up to your elderly teacher. Glancing over to Sal, his eyebrows were raised and he peered up at the woman at the front of the classroom with something akin to surprise in his eyes. "Uh-"

Before he could explain himself, Mrs. Packerton's entire facade did a 180 and her eyebrows were suddenly furrowed and her frown was deep-set. It was almost comical, and you strained to keep the laugh in. You weren't looking to break a rib, so you unfortunately giggled beneath your breath. 

Her dark brown eyes slid over to you. After a moment of being examined and feeling extremely uncomfortable, she sighed.

"I'm administering detention for both of you, after school. I will let you finish the test, but next time this happens it'll be an immediate fail for both of you. Understood?"

You and Sal exchange both equally supposed expressions, before nodding together.

Before class is over, you see Travis giving Sal another sour look. Oh my god, you thought, twirling your pencil around in between your fingers. Is this going to have to be another talk, Travis? 

The bell rang. You and Sal jumped up and fled the class as quickly as you could. 

"Oh my god," he breathed, as you both stepped into the hallway and began maneuvering through the countless amount of students flooding the halls. "She's super fucking scary. I was so wrong."

You abruptly laugh. "Yeah. She's got that look in her eye." You pause. "I'm sorry, Sal. You wouldn't be getting a detention if it wasn't for me."

Sal tilts his head just slightly. "It's no big deal. It was my fault, anyway. It's not like you asked for my help either times I helped you out. It's not like my dad's going to be mad, anyway—he'll probably be relieved. I've never really got detention for anything, especially involving talking to another person. Probably'll be glad I'm being more social, haha."

You frown. "I'm still sorry."

"I appreciate it, but you don't have to be-"

"If only your friend wasn't so dumb, Sally Face. It's a shame that your perfect record is all tarnished."

Sal appears as though he knew who was talking a few words in. He inhales, turns around to face the blond boy behind him, and backs up a step. "What do you want, Travis?"

Your fingernails sink into your palms. It stings. You told him yesterday! 

"Nothing. Just wanna know why she's so stupid."

Sal's eyes flicker. "Mm, think you're forgetting about how close you were to failing mid-terms last year. You're not very bright yourself."

Travis grows a bit red but he looks as though he's trying to ignore his growing frustration. It boggled you—the fact he was so easy to anger because of the fact Sal was defending himself. Defending.. you?

"Whatever. Why am I fucking arguing with a fucking satan worshipper, anyway?"

That genuinely surprised you. What kind of insult was that? And where did it come from?

"Whatever, Travis. God doesn't like bullies, either. I hope you don't kiss your daddy with that mouth-"

You're glad the hall is relatively empty because the crack you hear when Travis' fist meets Sal's prosthetic face is loud and startling. Your heart is in your throat. You place your hands on Travis' chest and push him into the lockers. The metal cages rattle beneath the sudden weight.

"What the FUCK is wrong with you?" You shout, red hot anger coursing through your body and pumping through your veins. "Get the fuck away. I swear to god, I'll-"

Sal murmurs your name, gripping your wrist. "Stop. Don't push him."

You give Travis the bitchiest expression you can muster. He scoffs and walks away. You're surprised he didn't throw one last insult into the air—but he instead walked down the hall with heavy footing, turned around the corner, and disappeared.

As soon as you're done watching him down the hall, you whip around to Sal with wide eyes. He was cupping the place where the mask cut off, collecting blood that dripped down.

"He's got a mean right hook," Sal breathily laughed.

The rage you currently felt made your head hurt. You quickly grabbed him by the wrist and hurried him towards the restrooms at the opposite side of the hall. On your way, the bell rings. You couldn't care less whether or not you were going to miss your class—it's not like you didn't have detention already.

"Hey, what're you-"

You pull him into the girl's bathroom, which was empty. You make sure to turn him away from the entrance. His eyes are as wide as two dinner plates. 

"Huh. Smells nice in here," he comments. The fact that's the first thing he says tells you he's clearly in shock from being clocked in the face. 

You grab some paper towels and look him in the eye.

"I'm going to clean you up now," 

You reach around his head.

"Hey, I- wait, you don't-"

You unbuckle the clasps at the back of his prosthetic and pull the prosthetic off of his face. You set it aside, and set it on the edge of the sink. 

He slowly meets your gaze. The amount of internal fear that's held inside of those eyes—fear you know that's been held in for so long—is astonishing to you. Your eyes soften. You slide your gaze over his face, and all you can feel is an unbelievable amount of happiness and satisfaction. 

Butterflies swarm your insides and beat against your ribs at the sight of his mouth. 

It's just as kissable as you'd imagined.

Shut the fuck up, you snap back at yourself. Not the time.

You're unable to hold in the large smile that grows on your lips as you bring the paper towels toward his face and wipe away the blood that dripped from his nose, down his mouth, and fell down his chin—there was so much of it that it had made its way down to the collar of his shirt, staining the material scarlet red.

"You can give that to me later," you uttered. "I know a thing or two about getting blood out of clothes, haha."

His lips twitched, but he remained silent and let you do your thing. 

After thoroughly cleaning his face off, you return the prosthetic to him, handling it with care.

"Here you go."

After he'd put it on, you met his eyes.

"Hey, Sal, I'm-"

"It's okay." He peered at you sincerely. "That went.. better than I thought it would. I just hope you don't think of me differently."

The thought appalled you.

"No!" You exclaimed, a bit too forceful. You gathered your composure and tried it again. "No. Um- I could never. Seriously. Your face doesn't change who you are, Sal. It doesn't make me think of you any different. You're still you. Besides, I- um... I liked it."

His eyebrows jump and he jerks his head upward. "What?"

"I liked it. I liked your face."

He was silent like it was taking him a little bit to process that. Your eyes wandered during this time, and they landed on the collar of his shirt, again. You cursed.

"Shit. Hold on."

Suddenly, you'd crossed your arms around your midriff and began pulling the sweater upward. The noise Sal made was almost comical. 

"No, uh, you don't have to! It's fine, I can-"

Before he could stop you, the shirt was up and over your chest and it was off of your head. Thank god that you'd remembered the black top beneath, or else you'd feel really bad that you couldn't give him the sweater—it wasn't like you could walk around in just a bra (as much as you'd like to sometimes.)

He grabbed the article of clothing from you, hesitant. "You're sure?"

"Yep!"

"Alright," he murmured, cautious, pulling your sweater over his head and pulling it down his torso. Once he'd done so, he looked back to your eyes and inquired you with his own. "So? What do you think?"

Heart beating so loudly it thrummed in your ears, you replied: "You've never looked better," and grinned wider than you ever have before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!! stay tuned for the next one!! 🦋


	4. questions

"every mile further, there's a part of me that slips away."

—

At lunch, you and Sal eventually locate the group's spot in the cafeteria. It felt almost like a walk of shame as the two of you approached and cautiously sat down at the table. 

Todd, Ashley, and Larry all turn their heads toward you both. Normally, they'd most likely greet you as if nothing was wrong—which, to their knowledge, nothing was—but this time they were hesitant in saying anything. You could only guess they'd caught the wave as soon as you'd both sat down. 

Larry looked calmer than he did in the car. You hoped Ashley and Todd talked him down.

"Alright, something's weird," Ashley's suspicious eyes flitted between you and Sal. "What happened?"

Sal looked you in the eye, before returning his gaze to Ash. "Nothing, we-"

You should have let Sal lie about it, but the fact he still wanted to be selfless and keep the peace made you angry on his behalf and was enough to make you cut in. "Something happened in class that pissed Travis off. In the hall, he fucking cuffed Sal in the face."

Larry jerks forward in his seat. You take advantage of his shock to keep speaking. "His shirt had blood all over it. That's why I gave him my sweater."

"What the fuck?" Ashley's eyes were wide, her entire expression forming into something furious. "We need to report him."

"No, we don't," Sal shakes his head. "It makes things worse. It wasn't even that bad. The blood was superficial. It didn't even take more than a minute for her-" he looks to you, clears his throat, and corrects himself. You guess he doesn't want any questions being asked about what happened in the girl's bathroom. "-for me to clean it up."

Todd swallows a bite of his sandwich and speaks up. "Sal may be right. It would make things worse. That doesn't mean it's justified, though—no matter what Travis is going through at home."

"You know what is justified?" Larry is seething in his spot. "Him getting his shit beat. When the day's over, I'm taking him behind the school and knocking the lights out of his fucking head."

Sal inhales beside you. 

"Yeah—that's not going to do anything," you breathe. You feel the blue-haired boy shift beside you—like he'd turned his head your way. "I actually spoke to him on the first day of school."

Ashley's eyebrows fly up. "What? What did he say?"

"We were all in the hallway," you began to explain, slowly and steadily. "I'd seen him giving Sal weird looks earlier in class—and at that moment, he seemed off, too—just standing there at the far end of the hall." 

You paused. "I don't know. I've seen it before. It was like he was gearing himself up to walk over and say something. So I took it upon myself to beat him to it. I went over, asked him what he was planning on doing—told him to pick his battles. He almost went over anyway, but I put my hand on him and told him how that wouldn't end well."

You swallowed and glanced around anxiously. "He looked at me, scoffed, and walked away."

Your hand raises to your neck. You absentmindedly drag your knuckles over your throat—a nervous habit. "I hope I didn't make things worse. If I'd known that maybe that was the reason he was pissed off today I wouldn't have done anything."

Sal hadn't looked away from you the entire time you'd been speaking. Carefully, he shifts in his seat to face you and starts: "No," he shakes his head. "He would have hit me anyway. What you said didn't make him do that. It's about what happened in class."

He glanced over the table before meeting your eyes again. "He's jealous. I think he wishes he had something like we- he wishes he had a friend. That's all. So don't blame yourself for Travis' actions like you caused them when all you were trying to do was defend me."

Tears form but you blink them away quickly. Something flashes behind Sal's eyes and he looks as if he's going to say something to console you but someone's speaking before he can. You look away first, settling your eyes on the table.

"What happened in class?" Ashley asks, slowly reaching for her bag of chips. 

Sal's eyebrows twitch downward. "Nothing. I tried giving Y/N another answer and Mrs. Packerton gave us detention. That made Travis mad, for some reason."

Larry lets out a bittersweet laugh. "As funny as Mrs. Packerton giving you detention is-"

Sal rolls his eyes in your peripheral vision.

"-why would that make Travis mad? It's not like he's a goody-two-shoes. He barely gets by in school."

Sal shrugs. "Who knows. I really don't care what he thinks, anyway."

Larry is beside himself with frustration. You can tell it. He's tense and his jaw is hard. You know he's ready to get up and talk to the other side of the cafeteria and beat the fuck out of Travis but he knows he can't—because Sal doesn't want that.

"If I were you, I would have killed him already," Larry mutters. "Don't know how you do it, dude. I don't think you aren't capable of it."

The boy beside you falters. "I don't care about what he says to me. It's really about what he says to other people. When he started saying shit to Y/N—I, uh- I'll admit, I did sort of feel like hurting him."

Your heart skips a beat. Immediately after this happens, you feel like slapping yourself in the face for letting your hormones get the better of you.

You watch the rest of the table exchange glances you would've missed—had you blinked—before Ashley speaks. "Whatever. I just don't get why he lets his anger out on somebody who's done nothing to him."

After that, the conversation steadily drifts into something more lighthearted. Larry makes fun of you and Sal for getting detention for something you nearly got caught for the previous day. Todd recites facts about medieval times and Ashley for some reason thinks that it's hilarious and laughs. 

You enjoy the rest of lunch, despite the earlier topic. 

You've come to realize this school absolutely does not give a shit. You and Sal are accepted into detention without any further notice for your parents. As far as you know, the faculty hadn't contacted nor your mother or Sal's parents. 

"Let me call my dad," Sal mumbles, as you both approach the door to detention. "When I'm not home in time he always thinks something bad's happened to me, haha."

He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and flips it open.

"I'd call my mom, but I don't think she'd care," you laugh. It isn't bitter, really—you just couldn't care less. "From how you turned out, I bet your mom is really cool."

Sal looks up from his phone. "Thank you. Uh, yeah. She was good to me."

You falter at the 'was' and ask a question even though you shouldn't have. "Are your parents separated, Sal?"

He falters, waves the phone in his hand a little. "My mother, ah- is dead, Y/N."

Dread plunges to the bottom of your gut like a heavy rock and weighs your insides down. You feel like the biggest idiot known to the world—and you feel even stupider now that you can't muster the words up to apologize to him. 

Eventually, you collect yourself—only to spiral yourself downward into further shame.

"Sal, I am so sorry," you breathe. "I should have caught on sooner."

He seems almost surprised concerning your sincerity, eyebrows raising and his eyes widening. Sal quickly raises his hands and waves them, his demeanor appearing distraught. "No! No, don't feel bad. There's no way you could've known. I don't talk about family much."

You breathe in slowly. "I'm such a horrible person. Here I am, complaining about calling my mother, and.."

He blinks down at you sincerely, glances both ways down the hall, and returns his gaze to you, and speaks: "Do you want to just get out of here?"

Your head jerks upward. You swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and fumble for a response. "What do you mean?"

Sal breathily laughs. "We'll get in a lot of trouble for this—but you only live once, right?" He shifts his weight and takes a step closer to you. "Let's just ditch the detention. Me and you."

Your heart jumps. "Don't you have really good grades? Sal, what if-"

"That doesn't matter," he blurts. You meet his eyes. The blue in them cast something familiar onto you—exhaustion. Numbness. The want to feel, the want to be exhilarated. 

You don't know this boy very well—but you see something of yourself in him. A person who's kept between the lives most of their life, but they're just itching to break through that wall. 

Sal is bored. He's sad. And he wants the thrill.

"Let's do it."

You and Sal both escape the school in a matter of a few minutes. Leaving involved a lot of unnecessary running and giggling and navigating through halls—but you make it out and breathe in the crisp, autumn air. It further dries your parched throat and rustles your hair.

"Wow," Sal breathes, beside you, as you both stand with feet firmly planted on the concrete. You're a few yards away from the school, enough distance between you and the building to where you can feel comfortable. "Never done anything like that before."

You laugh. "We ditched detention, Sal. We didn't run from the law."

"To my standards, we may as well have." He meets your eyes, the breeze blowing past his blue hair. "What do you want to do next?"

You take Sal to a playground. It takes a little while of absentminded walking and searching for something to appear, but eventually your eyes catch on that swing set and you can't resist. 

"Come on!" You grin and run towards it.

He laughs behind you, and follows you a little less excitedly, taking his time with walking.

You sit side by side. You dig the toe of your shoe into the ground and push yourself into a steady rock, back and forth. The chains squeak which each movement of the swing. 

"Hey, Sal?"

He looks over at you, his hair rustling with the autumn breeze. The more you look at it, the more jarring the contrast becomes—the blue against the backdrop of orange and red trees and the dull sky. "Yeah?"

"Wanna play 20 questions?"

Sal blinks toward you. He brings his hands up to grip the chains attached to his swing. "Sure."

"Okay. Just one rule-"

"Don't ask for your bra size?"

You laugh. "No. If you really want to know, it's-"

He waves a hand hurriedly. You notice the strain in his voice when he replies. "I was just kidding. What's the rule?"

"No boring questions. That's it."

Sal chuckles. "I'm a boring person, so I can't really promise that." 

No, you're not, you thought. 

"Prove me wrong. You go first."

"Favorite color?"

You chuckle, kicking dirt up from the ground as you push yourself into a steady rock, back and forth. "Wow. What a question. Uh... I don't know. There's a lot of great colors." You glance toward him, shivering as a gust of wind brushes your clothed shoulders. "Blue."

He inclines his head toward you. "It's your turn, now." 

You pause. "I'll ask you the same thing. What's your favorite color?"

"Yellow. If you could choose a way to die, how would you? Old age or something peaceful doesn't count."

The abruptness of the shift in topic makes you laugh. "I'd like to be struck by lightning."

He peers at you curiously. "Why?"

"Does that count as one of your questions?"

Sal fingers at the chains of his swing. "Yeah, sure."

You shrug your shoulders, sucking your front teeth behind your lips. "I don't know, honestly. I'd like to know how it feels. It would probably just feel like fire, and it would fucking hurt—but wouldn't it be kind of cool? Have you seen a photo of someone after being struck by lightning?"

He giggles, lifts a foot and presses the bottom of his shoe against the other one. "Does that count as one of your questions?"

"Shut up. Have you?"

"No. What's it look like?"

You grin. "It's like.. tree roots. Or a branch with leaves on it—but it's a scar. You'd have to see it to understand."

Sal looks as though he's about to say something else—probably tease you for your strange fixation on lightning strike victims—but you beat him to the punch. "My turn. What's your favorite song?"

"Memories and Dreams, Sanity's Fall."

You raise your eyebrows. "Metal? Well, now that I think about it, you seem the type."

"Larry actually introduced me to it. I didn't really listen to anything before I met him. Alright, I'll ask you the same question. Favorite song?"

"Wonderwall, Oasis."

"That one's pretty recent," he hums, pauses, and thinks about it. "Yeah. That sounds like you. I like it."

You smile shyly. "It's not metal, sorry. Can we still be friends?"

Sal exhales through his nose amusedly. "No. You don't like the same music genre as me. Friendship over."

You laugh. "Well, I never said I didn't like metal. Anyway, my question is.. when's your birthday?" 

"December 20th."

Your eyebrows raise. "Holy shit. You're nearly a Jesus baby."

Sal chuckles. "I'm far from being the second coming. It's 5 days off, anyway."

That makes him a Sagittarius. You're pretty familiar with the general traits of the zodiac signs—personality traits, physical traits, sexual tendencies—like a lot of teenagers nowadays.

Well, if he's true to the zodiac, he has a high sex drive.

Your face feels hot. You're a creep, your brain says. 

A few questions pass by. He asks about your birthday, you ask him his favorite movie, etc. You're nearing the end of the game, and it's been a decent amount of time. It feels almost too soon when the sun begins to drift down in the sky. 

"Alright, my turn," you say after you've answered the question Sal had just asked you. 

"Shoot."

"Are you a virgin?"

A tense moment passes, and you seriously regret asking. All you can hear is your heart thrumming in your ears and your blood rushing towards it and through all of you.

He meets your eyes evenly. "Yeah. Obviously."

"I don't believe you," you reply, immediately.

His eyebrows raise. "Why not?"

You hope he can't hear your pulse. "Because. You answered that way too smoothly."

"That makes no sense. If I were lying, I wouldn't have been as cool about it."

You narrow your eyes. "That's not just it, though. Why hasn't someone fucked you?"

If the abruptness of your question shocked you, it certainly shocked him. Sal laughed loudly like he was in disbelief—swaying his head away from you. His knuckles grow white around the swing chains. 

His head turns back and his eyes meet yours straight on. "What are you trying to say?" 

"Oh my god," you slapped a hand over your mouth. "I sounded so ignorant just now. Sorry. I'm not shaming you—that would make me a hypocrite. I'm a virgin too."

Sal huffs out another laugh, breathily this time. "No, I didn't think you were being ignorant. That's not what I was asking you."

You pause. "Then.." You plant your feet on the ground and stop the sway the swing is in. The sun continues to drop further down in the sky, and it’s golden light warms your face. 

You look away from him, your heart beating against your ribs. "Hey, I have an idea."

When you turned your head Sal's way, his attention was already on you. "Yeah?"

"You said that you drive, right?"

"Yeah. Not legally. But I can drive. Why do you ask?"

You grin. 

By the time you've arrived at the apartments, the sun has fully dropped out of the sky and the heavens were completely black—save for the full moon and the speckles of bright stars. This is one of the things you love about Nockfell—it's so far out. The lack of air pollution and chemicals below the clouds made the celestial bodies out there so much clearer.

"My dad's going to kill me," Sal muttered, as he forced his personal key into the door to his apartment. 

"Hey, Sal, you know we don't have to-"

His head turns to you. "I never said that. I want to."

Sal pulls the key out and slowly turns the knob beneath his long fingers. Instead of easing the door at a steady pace, he holds on tighter to the knob and pushes it open quickly. For a moment, you almost scolded him for his recklessness—until you realized he'd done this so the door wouldn't whine on its hinges. 

"Have you snuck in or out before?" You ask him, voice low as you watch him lean down to take his shoes off before he enters the apartment. "Why are you doing that?"

"These floorboards are shit. They creak under the carpet. Wait here."

He leaves his cornflower blue sneakers at the foot of the door and walks inside. You watch the back of his head as his figure disappears into the darkness of the room. Sure enough, he was right. His feet only emanate soft pats against the carpet and don't disturb the wood beneath—because he's only wearing socks. You hear the sound of keys before he returns to you. 

"You didn't answer my question," you murmur with a teasing lilt, as he slides the door back into its place in the frame. He locks it back and turns to you.

"Not like this. I especially haven't stolen his car."

You laugh. "I hope I'm not becoming a bad influence on you. We've already ditched detention today.."

"Yeah, but that was my idea," he reminds you. 

"I guess you're right. Do you think your dad will be mad at you?"

You loom over him as he forces his feet back into his sneakers. "Honestly? Probably. I've never done anything like that before. Getting detention is one thing, but leaving the school before actually attending it is something else entirely."

The both of you enter the elevator instead of going down the stairs. It's late, this complex is shit, and the stairwell wouldn't be lit. 

Somehow, it hadn't crossed either of your minds that taking this elevator so late wouldn't be exactly wise either, but you'd stepped inside of the compartment anyways. 

You stepped to Sal's left and watched him press the button for the first floor with his knuckle. As soon as he'd done that, and the elevator doors had slid closed, the singular light that illuminated the compartment flicked off and the both of you stood in abrupt darkness.

"Holy shit!" You exclaimed, jutting yourself into Sal's side and grasping the material of your sweater that he wore. "I'm sorry, but what the fuck? Did it just break?"

"No," he laughed, shifting his weight towards you. "It always does that in the night. I think it's to conserve power so the elevator doesn't break altogether." 

You let go of him, embarrassment fluttering in your gut. You weren't sure whether to feel relief as you felt the elevator make it's descent downward. "I mean.. shouldn't there be a sign? I don't know.. that says something like.."

"'You aren't about to plummet to your death, the building's just really old?'" Sal finished your sentence for you and chuckled. "Yeah. If someone had a heart attack, they could sue. But the guy that runs this place is really old and doesn't really have family—so that would just be sad."

You're close enough to him to where you can feel him shrug. "There's an awful lot about this place that's rundown and weird and honestly sketchy, but Addison doesn't care. For instance, the college kids that live in 301? They spend all of their free time doing coke and heroin."

Your eyebrows raise into your hairline as you listen along. 

"They're super nice people, and I don't mean to be rude at all, but god, you can smell the body rot inside of that apartment. It's really sad."

You look to him. "You've.. been inside of there," It wasn't a question—more of a statement. 

"Yeah. I did coke with them once or twice."

You get whiplash, that's how fast your head whips toward him. "Sal," you breathe. "I don't mean to sound overbearing, but please don't do that. Ever again."

He huffs, but not of frustration. It's of resignation and understanding and shame. "I.. I'll admit it to you, Y/N, that shit is a lot more addictive than it's made out to be. I'm not going to tell you how I felt because I don't want to make it out to be enticing—but I can understand why they're addicts. I'd only done it a few times and it felt like any time I wasn't doing it I itched for it. Eventually, I got busier with school and other things—so after a while, I.. guess I sort of forgot."

You hear him turn his head to look at you. You barely make out his prosthetic face in the black. "I'll smoke cigarettes with you, Y/N, but I'll never introduce you to something like cocaine. By the way you reacted when I told you I'd done it, I hope you won't do it yourself." 

You meet his eyes amidst the darkness. "You know, Sal," your gaze wanders to the elevator doors. The compartment shutters as it reaches its destination on the ground floor. Your fingers brush his with purpose. "I know of a lot better feelings that don't come from drugs." 

Your heartbeat sounds like gushing blood in your ears. You feel his burning blue eyes on the back of your head. 

At the same time as you're stepping out of the elevator, you've stepped into something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol i love writing subtle sexual tension 😽 it’s really hard refraining from making them start grinding or something but i’ll restrain myself

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first ever story to be posted on AO3 :). for the longest time, i didn’t have an account lol. stay tuned for the next one which i’ll be publishing really soon. thank you for reading!
> 
> the story’s also on wattpad! check it out: daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader by bleuelagoon


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